


It couldn’t be that bad if it started with a kiss

by AnnaFay



Series: Don’t let him catch you looking scared [11]
Category: Padmaavat (2018)
Genre: Caning, Canon-Typical Behavior, Corporal Punishment, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fellatio, Light BDSM, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Vaginal Sex, kinky fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFay/pseuds/AnnaFay
Summary: “Tell me,” he finally spoke, tossing the blanket to the side, “What did Kafur say I wanted you to do?”She licked her lips and looked back at him. “To get in the bed, keep it warm and wait for you,” she said, searching his face. He didn’t seem angry. “Wet and ready,” she added, realising he was waiting for her to complete the sentence.He raised a brow, and the smile that went with it suggested he was willing to listen if she wanted to explain why he had found her cocooning in his blankets and asleep then.
Series: Don’t let him catch you looking scared [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858198
Comments: 7
Kudos: 2





	It couldn’t be that bad if it started with a kiss

She woke to the blanket slipping off her shoulder. Adjusting it with a sigh, she pushed her face deeper into the pillow and pulled her knees higher. With the braziers roaring and all the furs and blankets piled on the bed, the night wasn’t unbearably cold, but a cruel wind was blowing outside the tent, and she wanted to stay as snug and warm as possible.

It slipped again.

Slowly, at first, but just as she was about to reach for it, it got yanked out of her hand and off her body in one swift motion. It made her sit up with a sharp cry, raising one hand to cover her nakedness and the other to defend herself from her assailant.

Had the Sultan wanted to overpower her, there wasn’t much she could have done about it, but he stood still at the foot of the bed, watching her intently.

Lowering her eyes respectfully, she tried to overcome her fright and swallowed hard to force her heart from her throat back to its original place, but it wasn’t easy. Not when he was still not moving.

“Tell me,” he finally spoke, tossing the blanket to the side, “What did Kafur say I wanted you to do?”

She licked her lips and looked back at him. “To get in the bed, keep it warm and wait for you,” she said, searching his face. He didn’t seem angry. “Wet and ready,” she added, realising he was waiting for her to complete the sentence.

He raised a brow, and the smile that went with it suggested he was willing to listen if she wanted to explain why he had found her cocooning in his blankets and asleep then.

Telling him that she felt cold was out of the question. As she was the one who wanted to come along in the first place, she made sure not to say a word about the cart, the dust, or the cot she was sharing with the others either. So she did the only thing she could; she lowered herself back on her elbows and opened her legs for him to let him see that she was indeed ready. And had done a marvellous job at getting the bed warm too.

He laughed so hard at her comeback that she needed to bite her lower lip to keep her grin at bay and herself from looking too pleased when he motioned her to approach him.

He waited for her to get on her hands and knees to crawl across the bed. Then as soon as he could, he grabbed her arm and pulled her on, until she was standing in front of him.

“Wet and ready,” he mused, still holding on to her arm as if he expected her to bolt when he reached between her legs. But of course she was far from it. “You were waiting for me wet, I grant you that,” he said in a low voice as he continued to tease her with fingers barely parting her folds. “But would you call that ready?” He nodded towards the bed.

They all knew how terrible his wrath could be, and even though she had never seen it in person, she didn’t have to to be able to tell that she preferred it that way. But a bit of danger in his voice…

He must have caught the glint in her eye, because he caressed her face before licking his lips and letting her go.

“Get me an arrow.”

She could feel her mouth open and close, but he nodded towards the other end of the tent where she was supposed to find one with a grin and followed her with his eyes as she walked away to do his bidding on legs that suddenly felt somewhat shaky.

The quiver was easy enough to find. Too easy. So even though they looked exactly the same to her, she gave herself time by checking a few arrows before choosing the one she would take back and present to him.

Picking it from her hands, he swished it across the air, and she couldn’t help flinching upon hearing the sound it made.

“So,” he said, breaking the arrowhead off easily and throwing it in the general direction of the table nearby before he turned the remaining shaft around and started undoing the cord holding the feathers attached to the other end. “I take it that you two know each other?”

She gave him a silent nod. They did. She knew it hurt like hell across the palm of the hand and even more across the sole of the feet, and wondered if he would use it on her that way too. He never did. Out of all the parts of a girl’s body, he preferred punishing the buttocks and the thighs. Hers more than anyone else’s.

Neeta said it was because of the pretty shade of pink her skin turned from only a few hard swats. And because of the way she looked at her marks in the mirror when she thought no one was watching.

Unable to loosen the cord with his nails alone, he raised the arrow to his mouth and freed the feathers with his teeth, spitting them to the side with a satisfied huff when they finally yielded. She watched him getting rid of the last bits of cord and swishing the arrow across the air once more, and flinched again.

He didn’t say he would be careful. He didn’t say it wouldn’t hurt. But he touched her face again, caressing it before pulling her close for a kiss, and it was all that she needed to know that she would be able to get through it. It couldn’t be that bad if it started with a kiss.

There was a chest standing not too far from the bed, and when he was done kissing her, he took her by the arm and guided her to it.

“Bend over with your legs straight, and hold on to the edge,” he said, caressing her side with the back of his fingers as he released her. “Tight.”

She would have done so without being told too, because holding on to something – the bedpost, the covers, his hand if he had hers twisted behind her back – always made it easier.

Easier, not easy.

The first cut made her cry out.

The second made her raise herself on her tiptoes, then with the third, her knees buckled, and she needed all her strength to straighten them again.

After the fourth, she dropped down on her elbows, and that was a terribly bad idea. It hurt a lot more when her skin and muscles were stretched taut, so for the sixth, she struggled herself back to her original position.

She was grateful for the short break he gave her and made sure to use it well. While he ran his fingers along her swiftly forming welts, she held her head high and took a deep, calming breath. Then another, and another, until finally he pulled his hand away and tapped the stick against her skin.

Once, then once more, before drawing it back and hitting her across both cheeks, starting another cruel round of warning taps and hard swats.

The pain was just as she feared it to be; even worse than the belt. It stung as much at first, but cut deeper and lingered longer, and she quickly found herself unable to accept it without a fight.

First she only let go of the chest to wipe at a tear running along her nose.

Then he hit her on a particularly sore spot, and she jerked her hand away from the edge; grabbing it again so hard her knuckles turned white to keep herself from reaching back.

He saw it and must have known she couldn’t take much more, but put a hand on her shoulder to let her know that she would have to. A few light cuts, then one that made her shoot upright with a strangled cry to reach back and try to rub the pain away with trembling fingers right away.

He watched her in silence, then lifted his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and it made her look back at him, pleading silently to say it was over, because she could take no more. Not one more. He smiled at her tearful eyes and cupped her cheek gently, going as far as pressing a kiss against her lips.

It was short, but it was so sweet she almost groaned when he pulled away.

“On your knees.”

She didn’t want to. But she wiped her face with a sniff, and lowered herself on her knees in front of the chest as slowly as she could, deciding that maybe it would be a little easier this way, bending over something instead of having to take it standing.

She was about to reach for it too, when he stepped closer and touched her shoulder again.

“No.” He shook his head with a chuckle and lifted her chin as she looked back at him in confusion. “I’m done with that,” he added, throwing the stick away.

A sigh alone simply wasn’t enough. She closed her eyes too, and let her head dip before she looked back at him again, giving the only acceptable answer to that; a smile, as she shuffled to turn on her knees so that she would face him properly. It earned her another easy laugh and caress before he dug his fingers in her hair.

Holding her upright, he loosened the cord around his waist and freed himself, but just as she was about to raise her hands to touch him, he shook his head again.

“Keep them down,” he said and twisted her hair around his hand to get a better grip at it. “I want only your mouth.”

She truly hoped he didn’t mean that. The beating was punishment enough, but leaving her wet and yearning would have been too cruel. Still, she placed her hands just above his knees obediently and waited.

He gave far less guidance than she expected. He simply offered himself to her and let her decide how to proceed. She started with a kiss, because a long, wet kiss was always a good start. Especially when followed by more.

Watching his face, she made sure to give most of what her mouth had to offer willingly, and leave only a little to be taken. Just that last inch, for which he had to grip her hair tight and move his hips slowly so that she could breathe and accept him all the way.

Once he took over, there was no going back. He needed no more licks and kisses. He fucked her mouth at his own pace, turning her into a hole to be filled. And another, wanting to be filled so much, it hurt almost as bad as the welts across her cheeks.

She couldn’t tell how he knew, but he did. He probably saw it in her eyes, or in the way her whole body moved in rhythm with her lips.

“Are you still wet?” he asked as he slipped away from her and caressed her face with a grin.

“Yes.”

Letting go of her hair, he pulled her to her feet by the arm and walked her to the bed. She half-expected him to push her on it too, but he didn’t. He made her kneel on the edge, holding on to her arm and forcing her legs apart until she had no other option but to arch her back and offer herself to him.

“See?” He dragged his fingers along her spine slowly. “This is what I call ready,” he whispered, giving her backside a sharp slap.

It made her jump. It made her gasp. It made her hiss another “yes”. But it also made her look back at him over her shoulder and return the smile she heard in his voice.

This time he gave her no choice.

He filled her slowly, but all the way, putting his other hand on her waist, and tightening his grip to keep her steady when she shuddered as his cock hit that sweet spot deep inside her and his hips met her welts. True, he started at an easy pace, but she soon found herself mewling with each thrust that felt harder than the one before.

They both knew she could take more, though, and it was something she seldom had to beg for too excessively. She just had to raise her head a little higher and roll her hips against his to invite him a little deeper.

Wrapping his hand around her other arm too, he pulled at them both, bending her slightly at the waist and thus giving himself even more control over her body. He used it well. He no longer moved away from her for more than a few inches, but rushed back into her firmly enough to make her gasp. Then cry out. Whimper. And moan. And when she finally lost the strength to make a sound, they could still listen to his grunts, the creaking of the bed and the slaps his hard thighs gave her every time their bodies came into contact.

He rode her hard and rode her fast, and by the time he came undone and spilled his seed, she was almost thankful for it.

Almost, because her own pleasure was still yet to come.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so desperate for her release. But she needed it so much that when he let go of her arms and pulled her against his chest instead, she dug her nails into his forearm, threw her head back and welcomed his final thrusts with a sigh, then a moan when they finally hit their mark and pushed her over the edge.

Still, that was not enough. It had started with a kiss, and she needed it to end with another, so when he slipped out of her and was about to leave, she twisted herself in his arms and kissed him.

It was a lovely kiss. Sweet, like they usually were, after crossing a certain line, but this time he went as far as hooking his hand behind her knees and moving her to the centre of the bed, where he lay her down gently.

But no matter how gentle he was, she was too bruised to lie on her back.

“There,” he said, offering her a pillow as she turned on her side. She took it with a grin, tucking it under her head for the night. “You will need it tomorrow,” he added as he stretched himself out next to her, running his hand across her waist and resting it on her backside.

He seldom gave gifts, but when he did, they were perfect. Like the pillow; smooth and plush, and a magnificent colour of red. She was about to thank him for it too, when he tore his eyes away from her breasts and looked at her face.

“We break camp as soon as the men are ready.”

“Break camp...?”

“We have been sitting here for three days.” He shrugged with an easy smile.

People said he was cruel, and they were right. She could tell he enjoyed watching her eyes widen with realisation as much as he enjoyed fucking her.

“Don’t worry,” he crooned, leaning so close their noses nearly met. “You will be travelling like a princess; seated on a silk cushion.” He patted her ass, then went on to press a kiss against her lips.

She doubted princesses sat on cushions for the same reason she was about to. Or maybe it depended on what pleased their princes. But she stopped thinking about such things the moment he decided to give her poor cheek a squeeze too, because it made her want to both shy away and mount him for a second round, and that was a far more pressing matter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I haven't baked a single loaf of bread in 2020, but this stuff kept me alive and sane, so I don't think I will stop with it in 2021.


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